


Torturing Seth Cohen

by missdeviant



Category: The OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-14
Updated: 2004-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdeviant/pseuds/missdeviant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cohen wasn’t going to know what hit him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torturing Seth Cohen

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://lalejandra.livejournal.com/profile)[**lalejandra**](http://lalejandra.livejournal.com/) accused me of being a taunter. But I’m not. Summer and Anna, on the other hand...they know taunting.

Summer hated waiting. She hated waiting at the salon for Suki, who _always_ seemed to be behind schedule; she hated waiting for her meal to come at the Crab Shack; she used to hate waiting for Marissa to finish making sure every. single. piece. of her hair was perfectly straight before they could go over to get drunk at Holly’s beach house; and she sure as hell hated waiting for everyone to get done with their sports and club meetings and social-chairing just so she could get a ride home from school.

As Summer loitered in the Harbor School parking lot, toe of her pointy pink patent leather shoe clacking against the cracked asphalt as she examined her manicure, she contemplated her transportation situation. It wasn’t her fault that everyone she knew was involved in some sort of after school activity. Hell, _she’d_ be involved in after school activities, if she could find one that suited her interests. But of course, even at Harbor, there wasn’t some kind of club that gave you an automatic 30% discount at Fred Segal. So she waited.

Technically, she supposed she could _not_ wait, but then Summer would just be stuck walking, and really, who wanted to walk in three hundred dollar shoes? Of course, she could have just taken the bus home, but, ew! She couldn’t be seen with those plebes.

Marissa had the car. Which meant Marissa drove. Like, always.

But, the thing was, she drove everyone else too.

Before Ryan had come and thrown the whole Newport social circle into upheaval, it had been just her and Marissa tooling around town. Well, when Luke wasn’t driving Marissa places, but then usually one of Luke’s friends would drive Summer places. But then Luke’s friends had disappeared with the whole Big Gay Dad fiasco, and none of Holly’s friends would let Summer into their car for fear that she’d go into a rage blackout, and like, spill nail polish on their leather seats.

If it hadn’t been for one teeny tiny incident, Summer thought, _she_ could very well be the one driving herself home from school every day. Really, it wasn’t her fault that she had totaled her new white Sunfire convertible a week after her sixteenth birthday, because that rabbit had just _jumped_ into the road, and she couldn’t hurt a poor defenseless animal, and she was okay, right, so that’s all that should have mattered? But her dad sure didn’t see it that way.

So, waiting.

Unless Summer had detention, which, really, still meant waiting, just in a boring classroom instead of on the quad, and not being able to use her cell phone and change next week’s hair appointment or have them hold that new lilac handbag she’d heard they’d just gotten in at Kenneth Cole.

Summer supposed it could have been worse. Cohen could have had the car, which would have meant that in addition to his grandma-esque driving skills that would take them twice as long to get home, she also would have to be subjected to whatever Modest-Death-Vanderslice Cohen decided to blast from the Range Rover’s speakers. And it was better than Ryan having the car, because he’d probably drive like the cops were after him, because he was used to that sort of thing, although come to think of it that would beat Cohen having the car, by, like, the power of one hundred.

And she thought it was probably better than Anna having the car, because Anna’s car would obviously be, like, immaculately clean, and she’d never let anyone eat in it, and her stereo would be tuned to the same crap Cohen listened to, except at sensible volumes.

So, really, it worked out well that Marissa had the car. She’d drive Summer home, because that was totally what best friends did, and she’d drive Ryan, because, well, they were pretty much attached at the ass, and she’d drive Seth, because he and Ryan lived at the same place.

Summer wasn’t sure how Anna got added into the equation, but it was probably when Seth was being gentlemanly one day after Lit Mag, and ever since then, it was the five of them, making a circuit around the O.C. after school, occasionally stopping for food, or ice cream, if Marissa wasn’t on a no carbs, no dairy diet that week (which she always seemed to be).

The odd thing of it all, getting in that car every day, with Ryan and Marissa up front, engaging in the kind of annoying banter that came with coupledom and controlling the stereo, Seth sandwiched between her and Anna in the back—it was actually fun.

Summer stood straighter and tucked her nail file back into her purse when she finally spied Marissa and Ryan strolling across the parking lot, his arm clutched in the vise-like grip of her elbow. She’d barely had time to wave to the two of them before Seth and Anna appeared over the rise, walking at some distance from each other.

Seth may not have been able to choose between the two girls, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t all get along. Well, it didn’t mean that Summer and Anna couldn’t get along.

At first, Summer thought she should have totally felt more disappointment that the whole Seth Cohen thing hadn’t worked out better. Because, really, no one turned down Summer Roberts and lived through subsequent rage blackouts to tell about it.

*Especially* when the no ones were named Seth Cohen.

But then. Anna had butted in with her supremely snarky attitude and yards of floss and ideas about being study buddies and the “Torture Seth Cohen Game” was born.

Now, to hear Anna tell about it, the game was no Jenga, no Trivial Pursuit, no Circle of Death.

But Summer pretty much thought it was the best game ever invented. Well, maybe second best, after “I Never” or “Truth or Dare” or any of those other drunk party games that seemed to get her in trouble.

Actually, yeah, it *was* the best game ever invented, because Summer loved watching Cohen squirm like a puppy who needed to be let out. Or a dork waiting for Best Buy to open so he could get the newest ninja video game.

Cohen needed an entirely *new* set of metaphors to describe him.

“Anna!” Summer squealed, prancing up to her and enveloping the spritely girl in a bear hug that was more teddy than grizzly. “How was your day?” she asked, exaggerating her words as she snuck glances at Cohen over Anna’s shoulder.

Anna froze in Summer’s arms for a moment before she returned the hug.

“Good. How was _your_ day?” she asked a little too loudly, pulling away.

Summer pulled Anna back into her chest with slightly too much enthusiasm, tilted her head close to the blonde girl, and whispered into Anna’s ear through clenched teeth. “Same game. New rules. Follow my lead.”

Anna managed to wrest herself from Summer’s grip and eyed her warily with heavily made up eyes.

Anna’s eyes would be way prettier if she stopped trying to match her eyeshadow to her outfits. Well, the outfits were another issue entirely. Anna obviously didn’t pay any attention to Steven Cojucaru, because she wasn’t going to end up on anyone’s end-of-the-year best dressed lists, although she had a pretty good chance of turning up on the pages of _Glamour_ with a black bar over her eyes.

Strangely, that was kind of what Summer liked best about her.

“Shotgun!” Ryan said loudly as the doors beeped unlocked.

“Why do you even call it, dude, we all know Marissa, like, painted your name on the seat.”

“Because you always complain if I don’t.” Ryan grinned as he tossed his backpack into the car.

“Well, why *do* I always have to sit bitch? You short people give me no love.” Seth whined, clambering into the backseat, long legs folding uncomfortably. A moment later, Summer and Anna slid in on either side of him, rolling their eyes.

“Well, you don’t want us climbing over you when we get to our houses.” Summer said and tossed her dark hair over a shoulder with a sharp twist of her neck.

“Yeah, and Summer’s stilettos of death really hurt if she catches you in the ribs.” Anna added, scrunching her nose.

“Ladies, you really need to stop fighting over me. Or, not, because it’s kind of cute. It’s like two chipmunks. Or squirrels.” Seth grinned widely.

Summer gave Cohen a look, and it was like the lightbulb of rage blackouts went off in his head and he began to stammer. “Violent squirrels! Then again, violence? Not so much fun. Didn’t Gandhi teach us anything? No one’s a winner when violence is involved.” Seth backtracked.

Summer pursed her lips and winked at Anna again as Marissa put the key in the ignition.

Cohen wasn’t going to know what hit him.

*

They were hardly out of the school parking lot when Summer ran her tongue around the inner edge of her pink lips, tasting stila passion fruit lip gloss.

“Anna, I meant to tell you, but totally kept forgetting! Sorry about the other night at your house. I didn’t mean to leave you alone, but I just *had* to take a shower.”

Anna’s left eyebrow quirked slightly.

“I mean, really, _who knew_ you could work up such a sweat playing Twister?”

Seth swallowed loud enough to be heard over the music coming from the SUV’s speakers.

Anna’s lips twisted into a grin.

“Well, yeah.” Anna began slowly, gaze flickering from Seth to Summer. “I thought it might be cooler if we took off our shirts, but that didn’t help at all, did it?”

Summer dug her nails into her thigh, suppressing a giggle of delight. “No, not a bit.”

Cohen rubbed his right ear furiously, closed his eyes, and pretended to jam along to the sounds of Liz Phair’s _Rock Me_.

“Well, I wasn’t alone for too long.”

“You weren’t?” Summer’s eyes narrowed, awaiting Anna’s next move.

“Of course not. I’m really sorry about getting in the shower with you, but I couldn’t use my parents, or the one in the guest bedroom, because I just *have* to use my special body wash, you know? It’s like, a neurosis of mine.”

“The peach one, yeah!” Summer nodded, getting into it. Cohen was twitching visibly, eyes wide as he leaned towards the front seat.

“Hey, Ry, turn up that music, willya? This is like, an awesome song and I think everyone would benefit greatly…”

“You like Liz?” Marissa looked at Seth via rearview mirror, eyebrows lowering in suspicion.

“Um. No. But I’m willing to try. You know, broaden my horizons. Chick rock is really underrated…”

Anna cut Seth off by putting a hand on his chest, slamming Seth’s upper body flush against the seat back as she leaned over him towards Summer. “Thanks for soaping my back for me.”

As Summer followed Anna’s lead and leaned in, she put a hand on Seth’s thigh and squeezed experimentally, and was delighted when he whimpered.

“Ooh, the next time we’re at the mall, I’ll have to get some of the body wash. It gets really…foamy.” The word hung on Summer’s lips for an instant longer than was necessary, and she felt the muscles in Cohen’s leg tense through his jeans.

Seth took each of their heads into his hands and pressed them into his chest. “Okay, you guys, stop. Now. Really.” He muttered, _sotto voce_.

Summer refocused her eyes, looked at Anna whose cheek was flattened against Cohen’s dark green t-shirt only inches from her own face, and winked.

“Nah, man, I think they should keep going.” Ryan craned his neck to the backseat passengers and grinned, clearly enjoying this far too much. Marissa shot him a look and he turned around in his seat, temporarily subdued.

Marissa’s steely glances may have lacked the sheer power of Ryan’s, but Summer knew that she could make her version of the glare of doom work damn well.

“Hey, eyes on the road!” Seth’s voice cracked and strained, and he released the girls heads, but they remained almost directly in front of him.

It was almost like they were sitting on his lap. This was going, like, so well.

“It’s too bad my shower is so small. I mean, we were really pressed up against each other in there.” Anna continued.

“No prob. Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you, you’ve got nice boobs. I never noticed they were so perky!” Summer’s voice matched her words.

“So do you.” Anna complimented back. “They fit perfectly into the curve of my palm.”

“Then when we finally got out of the shower we were so wet.”

“But we couldn’t find any towels.”

“So I just had to lick the water off of you. Drop. By. Drop.”

“Which really isn’t an efficient way to get dry.” Anna said seriously.

“No, not at all.” Summer grinned.

“We really should have thought to move the Twister board before getting into the shower, though. Because slipping on it with wet feet was not fun at all.”

“Falling on top of you was kind of fun though.”

Seth shifted uncomfortably and clutched at the hem of his novelty t-shirt with both hands, tugging over the top of his jeans. “Hey, are we there yet?”

“What are you, five?” Summer turned towards Seth’s face, which really wasn’t so hard, since she was all of three inches away from him to begin with.

“Yes. I’m five. And you’re contributing to the delinquency of a kindergartner, so I beg you, please, stop now.”

Summer let her high heeled slingback slip off her foot before wrapping her leg over Cohen’s, painted toes creeping under the hem of his too-long jeans, her hand sliding up his thigh.

“We were all tangled on the floor…”

“And still wet…” Anna added, putting her hand on Seth’s other thigh so that her fingertips grazed Summer’s.

“And really warm…”

“From the shower.”

“And the Twister.”

“So I ran my hand up your leg…” Anna’s hand moved further up Seth’s, matching her words, and his hips bucked in response.

“And I kissed your neck.” Summer’s lips brushed over Seth’s adam’s apple, eyes affixed on Anna’s.

Her toe was above Cohen’s sock, on warm skin.

“And I took your hand and made you touch that spot…” Anna’s hand found Summer’s and twined her fingers through, the dampness of their palms sticky against one another.

“Right below my bellybutton.”

“And slid it down…”

Anna’s eyes were on hers, Seth’s mouth was hanging open, Marissa’s cheeks were flushed, Ryan gripped the open window frame with white knuckles, and the speakers filled the air with white noise because no one had bothered to put in a new CD after the last song had ended.

“I never realized you were so…” Summer said huskily.

“Hot.” Anna finished, but her mouth didn’t close all the way.

And Anna’s lips were right. there. and the blurring green and brown and blue of the scenery faded away, just like Ryan and Marissa and there was just her. And Anna. And Seth Cohen. And Cohen’s breath rasping in and out of his lungs and her hand and Anna’s hand, and she leaned in just an inch further…

Anna tasted like cinnamon gum and her lips were soft, not slick with gloss like Summer’s, and her lips parted slightly, tip of her tongue flitting against Summer’s mouth. Summer could feel Seth’s breath in warm puffs on her cheek, the pressure of his fingers gripping her upper arm, hard; Anna’s knuckles laced between hers.

Her mouth closed and she drew back, hand slipping from Anna’s, and glanced at Seth, whose eyes were wide and unblinking. She could just imagine his dorky inner monologue, prattling away about how he was never going to complain about sitting bitch again because, yeah, that was just Awesome, more awesome than geeky comic books or video games or whatever else it was that uber-nerds did.

“Sorry.” Summer mouthed as her eyes turned back to Anna’s face, her flushed cheeks, the smudge of Summer’s pink gloss on her lower lip. She bit the inner corner of her mouth and smiled sheepishly.

“Why?” Anna’s lips formed the words back, and her head moved back and forth in bemusement.

Huh. Okay.

The car slowed to a stop and Seth broke the moment by clearing his throat. Cohen was completely prone to moment breaking. Sometimes it could be awkwardly endearing. Other times, not. Right now, not.

“Hey, Summer!" he boomed. Or not quite boomed. Loud didn't sound so forceful with a voice that was shaking. "We’re at your house, how about that?”

“Um. Later, guys.” Summer, almost in slow motion, disentangled her leg, retreated from her almost-in-Cohen’s-lap-but-not-quite position, re-acquainted her foot with her shoe, reached to the floor, picked up her stuff, and drew the strap of her red and white monogrammed purse over her shoulder, followed by her backpack.

“Later.” Marissa and Ryan chorused, Ryan’s eyes following Summer’s exit attentively. As she stepped out of the car Summer caught Ryan shrugging an apology, victim of another of Marissa’s suspicious looks.

“I’ll call you.” Anna said firmly, leaning over Cohen once more and waving her fingers at Summer as she walked up her driveway.

“Yeah.” Summer said, and blinked a few times as a still-dazed Cohen reached out and shut the car door from the inside. Anna had to mean she'd call to plan the next round of the Torture Cohen Game. Right?

Summer didn’t want to dissect it further, because dissecting was gross, and for science class, and not simple things like teasing the boy you liked with the girl you didn’t like. Or liked. But not in, like, that way.

Whatev. It was totally just a game. A fun game, but a game.

As Summer pulled her keys from her purse and watched Marissa back down her brick driveway and onto the street, she cleared her mind, dismissing any confusing thoughts, and smiled to herself. Yeah, the Torture Seth Cohen Game was fun. Someone would have to market a home version.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this should be soundtracked to one of Liz Phair's more "pornographic" songs--like 'Flower' or 'H.W.C.'--but I couldn't imagine Marissa willingly playing one of those songs while driving in mixed company. So, the author advises that this story is optimally read by putting one (or both) of those songs on repeat, and then visualizing from there.
> 
> Thank you.  
> 


End file.
